


Vegas PWP

by sweptawaybayou



Category: Actor RPF, Angel: the Series, Bones RPF, Jossverse RPF, Leverage RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 07:41:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9113152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweptawaybayou/pseuds/sweptawaybayou
Summary: Inspired by spending the weekend in Las Vegas at WriterCon surrounded by so many lovely, talented, friendly people. And a hotel with issues. Serious IssuesOriginally published 8-11-2004





	

The constant ring of the slot machines and the canned generic music of the casino faded behind Chris as the elevator doors shut. He stood alone in the small space, leaning against the wooden handrails and watched the digital readout of the floor numbers change as the elevator climbed upwards. He felt his eyes closing with fatigue. It had been a long, busy day, loose ends to tie up before catching the equally long flight to Las Vegas from New York, an uncomfortable wait at the airport for his luggage, and another long, seemingly endless taxi ride through stop and go traffic to the hotel. 

Now he was here, finally, and knew that he should be looking forward to seeing David but all his body cried out for was rest. Sleep. A hot shower, a bed and a pillow. 

He opened his eyes at the soft chime and watched as the doors slid open. Shouldered his backpack and stepped out into a small waiting area. Chris looked around for signs, trying to remember the room number. He ended up having to pull the map they’d given him at the front desk out of his back pocket, and then check the signs again. He followed an arrow down a long hallway, turning into another and then another. He backtracked; found he’d missed a turn, then finally, the correct door number. He slid in his key card, waited for the green light and opened the latch. The smell of stale and fresh cigarette smoke hit him first as he walked into the small room, letting the door shut behind him, looked around. Two double beds, a tiny table with two chairs crammed in the corner and a bureau holding a small TV. Chris saw David stretched out on one of the beds wearing a polo shirt and jeans, boots kicked off and left, abandoned in the middle of the room. His profile lit only by the moving gray shadows and glow of the TV.

Chris dropped his backpack.

“Tell me again why we’re staying in this shit hole and not the Luxor?”

David got up off the bed, walked to him, pressed him back against the wall, all in one fluid motion. His huge hands on Chris’ shoulders, his mouth just inches away from Chris’ face. 

“Because here no one knows us. Here we don’t have to worry about being recognized, or chased or asked for autographs. This hotel is full of old people and gamblers.” David dipped his head down, kissed Chris hard. “And don’t you just taste good?”

Chris looked up into unreadable brown eyes, felt the heat of David’s body through his t shirt and jeans.

“I need a shower. And a beer.”

David didn’t move.

“No, first you need to kiss me. Damn. I’ve missed you.” 

David’s mouth worried the rough stubble along Chris’ jaw, his cheeks, then, there, on his soft lips. Chris let David melt into him and returned the kisses. Sucked at his tongue, his bottom lip, nipped at it gentle with his teeth and tasted smoke and beer and lust. It was always like this with David. There was no half way with him. Ever. He made Chris feel like he was something special, that he was needed and wanted and desired. Whether they were alone, in a room full of people, or on a stage at a convention. David was constantly touching his arms, his neck or his back. It had been overwhelming at first, then Chris was surprised at how quickly he had gotten used to it and how much he missed the intense level of attention when David wasn’t around.

“I really need a shower.”

Chris managed to speak around David’s persistent mouth. He could feel the sigh on his face.

“Okay, okay.”

David stepped back, moved across the room to where a small styro-foam cooler sat on the table and pulled out a bottle of beer.

Chris set his backpack on the bed and rummaged in it for a change of clothes.

“Have you been here long?”

David shrugged. “Couple of hours. Long enough to know that there are no good TV stations. Considered buying some porn, decided to wait for you.”

Chris was caught for a moment, just staring at David as he stood in the wavering shadows of the television. The small smile that played around his lips, his dark eyes. The casual strength in his hands and arms as he popped the top off the bottle and drank half of it down, his throat muscles working in the dim light.

“Thought you had to shower?”

Chris shook his head and bit his bottom lip, hard. How that man made it so difficult, when all he wanted to do was stare at him, be swept up in his natural beauty, his charisma. How was he supposed to do anything with David this close, when they were alone. Together. Like this.

“I’m going, I’m going.”

Chris grabbed his clean clothes and went into the small bathroom. Shit, he hadn’t stayed in a hotel room this cramped since he was, well, since he was nobody. Even when he took his band on the road nowadays, they stayed in penthouse suites or rented condos. He pulled his jeans and shirt off, fumbled with the towels and started the water, grabbed the tiny bottle of shampoo off the sink and unwrapped the soap. So the man wanted anonymity did he? Well this hotel had to be the castle in the land of anonymous. Christ, not even a fucking toilet lid. 

Chris stepped into the spray of the hot water, let it sluice through his hair, and wash away the sweat of the day. He closed his eyes, tried to force some lather from the pathetic bar of soap, determined to ignore his semi-hard dick. How long had it been since he’d been alone with David? Too long. Since Chicago. And then they’d been drinking so much. Too much. Drunk for three days straight. David’s wife had insisted on coming along, forced the two of them to do the best buddy act even out of the public eye. It had gotten old really fast. Although it hadn’t stopped David from touching him. Constantly. Nor had it stopped him from coming to Chris’ rooms. A soft tap on the door, then hot, dry lips on his neck, his face, his mouth, his cock. David’s huge hands pulling at his clothes, tearing at stubborn buttons.

Chris shook his head, rinsed out the last of the shampoo. What the fuck was he doing in the shower when David was right out there? Waiting for him. Alone. Chris shut the water off; towel dried himself quickly, pulled on some old, soft sweat pants and opened the door.

The television was still on, gray shadows barely lighting the room. David lay on his back, pillows stacked behind his head, a half empty beer balanced on his now bare chest. His eyes closed, mouth open. Soft snores competing with the bland dry voice that came from the hotel’s black jack lesson. Chris smiled. Ran a hand through his long, still dripping hair, laughing quietly.

“Shit,” he whispered. Then he turned off the TV, took the beer from David’s loose grip, set it on the nightstand next to other empty bottles and the over flowing ashtray. He got into the bed next to David and grabbed some pillows out from behind the bigger man’s head. David slid down beside him, reached for Chris, David’s hands seeking out skin still hot from the shower as he pulled Chris close. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they both fell into a deep, comfortable sleep. 

 

~~

 

Chris heard himself moaning before he was completely awake. Pulled from a dreamless sleep by the hot, wet feel of lips wrapped around his cock. He shook his head, almost swooning from the hard suction at his groin and tried to move his arms down to his waist. He couldn’t. Chris opened his eyes; the room was still dark, heavy curtains closed against daylight? Moonlight? He didn’t know, didn’t care. He attempted to move his arms again and realized that his wrists were held fast above his head. He felt around with his fingers and recognized the metal of handcuffs, a rope slipped between the small chain that held them together, probably looped back around the headboard of the bed. After all, that’s what he would’ve done.

“Dave? What are you doing?”

Chris tried to keep the quiver out of his voice as he felt teeth nip at the head of his cock and the lick of a warm tongue. He heard David’s soft laugh and felt the mattress dip as David slowly crawled up, pausing at Chris’ nipples to bite and suck. Chris arched his back up to that mouth. 

“Dave, what the fuck are you doing?” Chris asked again, this time through gritted teeth.

David finally moved into Chris’ limited view, his face hidden by the shadows. Chris could hardly make out the white of his teeth as he smiled.

“This is my weekend. I called you.”

Chris nodded, then rattled the handcuffs. “And I’m here. So why the ‘cuffs?”

David laughed again. “What? You don’t remember Austin? This is payback, baby.”

Then David slid back down to Chris’ hard cock, pulling him sharply into his mouth. 

Chris groaned and bit his bottom lip. 

Fuck, yes, he remembered Austin. His band on a four-week road trip. A steamy August night, and Chris, already drunk on Shinerbock and Tequila, had called David on his cell phone earlier in the day. When David had finally shown up, the concert was over and Chris dragged him straight to his hotel room. Slammed David up against the wall, rattling cheap pictures in their plastic frames. Unbuttoned his jeans and sucked him off before saying hello. 

Chris remembered how David had freely given him control for the entire weekend. From choosing where and what they ate for breakfast, to how tight he tied David to the bed and how many times he made him come before finally, finally setting him free. Buying him shot after shot of Habenero Vodka and kissing him, feeling the fire from the pepper soaked alcohol burn his own tongue and lips. Country music, tight jeans, cowboy boots and homemade salsa with chips. Two days of drunken fucking and bar hopping and quick, sweaty moments stolen in dark alleys.

Yeah. He remembered Austin.

There had, of course, been times in between, some conventions, working on the show in LA until that was over, catching an afternoon or night at each other’s houses, fighting each other to be on top, arguing over football teams and discussing film deals while they blew each other’s minds. But when they specifically called for one another? A get out of whatever town you are in and come here right the fuck now call. Only three. This was the fourth. And whoever made the phone call was in charge. Made the plans, booked the hotel and provided the entertainment. Chris didn’t know how it had started, didn’t care, and David was right, he’d made this call. 

So Chris tried to stop struggling against the metal handcuffs and let David go. Closed his eyes and saw shooting stars behind his lids as David kept teasing him with his mouth, scraping tender flesh with his teeth, refusing to set a rhythm and holding Chris’ hips down and still against the mattress with his hands. Swirling his tongue and taking Chris in deep, only to let him out again, let his rock hard cock bob back against his skin and Chris moaned. Torn between wanting this torment to end and wanting to be held in this space forever, his blood thrumming in his veins and his mind blank. 

“Something you want, Kane?” David whispered.

“Hell, yes. I want you.” Chris heard him laugh, felt the bed shift again as David moved.

“Want what?”

Chris gasped as fingers, cold with lube, wrapped hard around his cock and slid behind his balls.

“Want you to fuck me. Now.”

“I think that might be arranged.” 

Chris felt David move up beside him, his lips hot and dry as they kissed. Chris lifted his head, and David filled his mouth with his tongue as he pushed one slick finger inside, then two, then three. And Chris couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, couldn’t concentrate on anything but the feeling of David inside him and the mouth that was sealed on his own.

David pulled his hand away, moved Chris’ legs up and apart. Slid his cock deep into Chris while still still kissing him. Swallowing down the low sounds that Chris made as David pumped in and out, holding Chris’ head in his palms, then licking his eyelids, his cheeks, his temples, tasting the clean sweat and soap flavored skin at his hair line.

The tempo increased, David’s head fell to Chris’ neck and Chris moved his hips in time with David’s thrusts, trying to keep up, straining to catch some friction against David’s smooth abdomen with his cock, something, anything. David’s palms slipped down Chris’ face and Chris grabbed at a thumb with his lips, pulled it into his mouth, sucking hard on it as he felt David shudder and slow and call his name, fill him as he came. 

Chris strained against the handcuffs, momentarily regretting tying up David in Austin. God, how he wanted to be touching him right now. David rested on top of him, catching his breath, and then pulled out and away. He rolled on his side and ran a finger down Chris’ chest, stopping just before he reached Chris’ wet, aching cock. Chris swiveled his hips and tried to meet David’s hand.

“Sing for me, Chris.” David whispered and rubbed the callused pad of his thumb across the end of Chris’ dick and listened to him groan. “Give me a reason to let you come.”

Chris was drowning in the heat that David had created inside him. David’s touch rough, pulling his foreskin back and forth, his tight grip, relentless, almost to the point of pain and then he’d stop. Lean down and circle Chris’ swollen cock with his tongue, warm, gentle, lapping, barely there. Chris was gasping, pulling so hard at the cuffs that restrained his wrists that the headboard creaked ominously.

“Goddamn, Dave, please. Fuck.”

Chris felt David run his hand down, squeeze his taught, tense thigh muscle and back up, circle around balls that were drawn up tight. He held the base of Chris’ cock, pulled the silken skin down and clamped his mouth tight around the tip, no teasing this time. Deep throated Chris, sucking hard and fast and wet and Chris was coming, his body exploding, eyes rolling back in his head as he shook, his entire body clenching and releasing.

David rested his head on Chris chest. Listened to Chris’ heart beat strong and fast and his breath slow and shallow.

“Dave?”

“Yeah?”

Chris rattled the cuffs, his shoulders beginning to ache, even as the rest of his body felt warm and loose. He felt David move, the smooth of his chest as he reached over Chris to the nightstand to get the key. David kissed him and laughed.

“Payback’s a bitch, huh?”

And he unlocked the handcuffs. Chris rubbed his wrists with his fingers, idly considered throwing David off the bed, decided it would be too much trouble. And David had only given back as good as he’d gotten in Texas. He felt big, warm hands start massaging his shoulders, his biceps, working the last of the soreness out of his muscles.

“I really don’t deserve this.” Chris mumbled, referring to the handcuffs and closing his eyes.

“Damn straight you don’t.” David growled back, referring to the massage.

But he kept it up until Chris was falling back into the deep, dreamless sleep that David had brought him out of earlier.

~~

They woke late in the afternoon, the sun sinking to meet the horizon, but still burning incredibly bright. David could feel Nevada’s amazing summer heat warm him as he stood in front of the sliding glass doors that led to a tiny balcony over looking the strip. Chris was in the shower and would probably use up all the rest of the clean towels just drying his hair. David had thrown all the now empty bottles of beer he’d drunk the previous evening into the tiny plastic trashcan, emptied the ashtrays and now he waited. A cigarette in hand, wishing desperately for a cup of coffee. 

This would be the last time he stayed in a hotel without a coffee maker in the room. He’d called down for room service an hour and a half ago, requested a carafe of coffee and two cups. Didn’t expect it to be delivered before Chris was ready to go out.

Fuck.

He was heading to the U.K. in three days. Filming a movie he didn’t have much hope in, but at least it was something to do. He had to work. Didn’t matter on what. Hoped that someday, something he did would catch on. Become part of the public conscience. He’d had that for a time with Buffy, then with Angel, but only to a limited audience. People who could see past the vampire, science fiction angle to the heart of the story, the sway of the characters. And then he’d turned down a major movie role for the fifth season, only to have the network fuck him sideways half way through it. 

David shook his head. This was not why he was here. Not now. Not this weekend. This was his time with Chris. Stolen time. Reality was not wanted, allowed, nor needed. Who knew when they’d get another chance to be alone like this? When both of them could just disappear for a couple days? He was not inclined to spoil it by stressing about his career and choices he’d already made. His cell phone was turned off and left in the pocket of his travel bag. No one knew where he was, or how to contact him. For this weekend, these short two days and two nights he was just a man on vacation. Not a husband. Not a father. Not an actor. Not under contract or at the beck and call of anyone. 

The bathroom door opened and Chris stumbled out, naked, throwing wet towels on the floor, his hair dripping wet and tangled.

“The fucking fan doesn’t even work. Jesus. Next time, no matter who calls. I make the reservations. I don’t fucking care if your legions of fans set up booths and sell soundtracks of me fucking you through the floor outside the Goddamn doors.”

David laughed. “Christ. You’re such a pussy lately. Hurry the fuck up. I need some coffee and booze and a really rare steak.” 

He took the last drag off his cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray.

 

~~

 

They stood together in front of the bank of elevators, waiting. Chris pushed the down button again. “Fuck me to tears. I know they come up this fucking far. Brought me here last night.”

David laughed, rocking back on the heels of his boots, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his worn jeans. “Kiss your Momma with that mouth, Kane?”

Chris turned to David, with that look on his face. The one that had made David approach him the first time, six years ago. One eyebrow arched up, his tongue sneaking out to pull in his thick, soft bottom lip, white teeth biting down on it. A sly, shit-eating grin that just dared David to kiss him.

“No, but I can make you forget your name when I wrap it around your dick, Dave.”

David turned and leaned against the wall, between two of the four elevator doors. Unbuttoned his jeans and pulled out his half-hard cock and started stroking himself.  
“Prove it. No time like the present.”

This time it was Chris’ turn to laugh and glance furtively left and right down empty hallways. “You are doing crack, right? Here? Now?”

David shrugged, his large shoulders rolling underneath his T-shirt. “Just like I thought. All talk and no action.”

The soft chime announced the arrival of an elevator and Chris pushed David into the small, garishly decorated space. Vomit inducing orange and red carpet, faux red velvet and paneling on the walls, mirrors on the ceiling. Chris was thanking whatever deity had seen fit to make sure the elevator came up empty of other people as he sank to his knees. One hand holding David’s shirt up and out of the way, his thumb rubbing the smooth skin of David’s abdomen and the other gripping the base of David’s cock. 

“Might want to hold that door,” Chris mumbled as he pulled David into his mouth, the sharp, salty taste of David’s clean flesh, faint smell of shampoo and musk and the heat he found there overwhelming him.

A quick, in-drawn gasp and David barely remembered to find the ‘door open’ button, push hard on it with his fingers as he sagged against the wall. The corner of a poster advertising some show in the theater on some probably impossible to find floor of the hotel digging into his back. David looked up, watched their reflection through half-open eyes. Chris moved back and forth, his cock disappearing in between those lips, David tangled his free hand in Chris’ thick hair, a groan escaping him when Chris scraped teeth against tender skin, increased the suction and took him all the way inside. Burying his nose in the soft, curly brown hair that surrounded David’s cock. 

Chris kept up the pressure until he felt David’s thighs begin to shake. He gently let David’s wet cock slide out of his mouth and looked up to see those big, brown eyes watching him through thick eyelashes, David’s chin pointing straight down.

“Now tell me, what was it you said about my mouth?”

David smirked and moved his hand off the button that was holding the doors open, joining it with his other on Chris’ head. “I said I think you’d better get busy, because we’re going down now.”

“Fucker,” Chris whispered and latched his mouth back onto David’s dick, starting right where he’d left off. No time for playing now, but hazy ideas of retribution drifted through his brain as he felt David shudder and his fingers tangle and pull his hair as David came, filling Chris’ mouth and throat and Chris heard him groan.

Chris stood up. Leaving David’s softening cock with one last, hard bite. Just to hear him make that sound again. Chris laughed as David was hastily tucking and buttoning when the elevator doors opened in the main lobby and an old couple pushed their way in before David and Chris could get out.

 

~~

 

They’d walked the strip, cruised the casinos, ate steak and lobster and picked up drinks at every bar they had passed. Danced with the wait staff at Coyote Ugly, followed showgirls through the Mirage and wandered through the Venetian aimlessly.

Finally they ended up back at the Imperial Palace and sat down at a black jack table. Chris was winning steadily and David losing just as fast. David ordered another whiskey neat from a passing waitress and leaned over to Chris. “Let’s just lose it all. Everything. Go live in some nameless town in Montana or Vancouver. Change our names and buy a cabin and take hunters up in the mountains for a living.”

Chris leaned back in his chair and pushed at the hair that was falling in his face. “I really think you need more to drink buddy. You’re just this side of breaking my heart.”

David laughed and they played another hand.

Hours later and after much searching through the maze of a casino, they found the correct bank of elevators that would take them up to their floor. Chris pushed the up button and they waited, David leaning against the wall.

Chris was feeling a nice, warm buzz from all the alcohol they’d consumed, but he could tell from David’s glazed stare and loose stance that he was well into inebriation. “Not going to puke on me, are you?”

David grinned and his eyes never left Chris’ face. “No. Think I am going to fuck you into next week, though.”

The doors of one elevator finally opened and Chris followed David into the small space, laughing. Last nights together were always bittersweet and painful. Each of them trying to find that moment when they’d finally touched each other enough. They always left bruises and scratches, anything that would leave their mark on the other. Something to remember as real life forced them apart in so many different ways.

David pulled Chris into his arms as soon as the doors slid shut, kissing him, tasting whiskey and cigarettes. Then the salty sweat from walking in the Nevada heat as his lips moved to Chris’ neck. Chris molded his body to David’s and pulled him in tighter. There were never any words of endearment between them, never whispered promises of the next time. It was all left unspoken in the touches, the roaming hands, searching fingers and endless kisses, desperate bites and soothing licks. 

David ripped open the button fly on Chris’ jeans, pulled his cock out and wrapped his fingers around it. “Ever been fucked in an elevator?” David asked and reached over to hit the red ‘stop’ button just before they reached their floor.

Chris shook his head, unable to keep the grin off his face. “No. Can’t say as I have.”

David moved back to him, bounced. His large frame made the now motionless elevator shake. Chris couldn’t help himself from grabbing for the handrail behind him.

“In normal places, you have about five or ten minutes before someone realizes that the elevator is out of commission.” David crossed the small space as he spoke and started unbuttoning his own jeans. “In this hotel? I’d say we have a good hour.”

Chris kept his hands on the rails as David leaned down to kiss him again. Chris felt David hands pull on the neck of his T-shirt, heard the material rip as it was torn and pulled aside to make way for Dave’s mouth as it trailed along Chris’ now bare shoulder. David’s hand back on Chris’ cock, pumping him, making him harder. He turned Chris to face the wall and pushed his pants down to his ankles, leaving a trail of hot, open mouth kisses up his spine. Chris looked up into the mirrors above them and watched David lube his cock; coat his palm and fingers with the slick, colorless fluid. Smiling at the thought that David had apparently had this in mind all night, since he had brought along the lubricant. Then his eyes closed as David pushed up against his back and he felt David’s hard, wet cock rub against him. David’s hand reaching around to hold his own aching dick again and his dry lips were against his neck and his ragged breath by his ear.

David’s hand worked him relentlessly, fingers rolling, pulling back and forth from top to bottom and when they were in this position, Chris liked to imagine that he was feeling how David would jerk himself off when Chris wasn’t around. Knowing just how to touch himself, just what pressure to use to make it last, draw it out, make it count. Chris waited, letting the waves and the heat build inside him, knowing that David wouldn’t enter without an invitation, without the right words. Finally he arched his back and turned his head, tried to see the man behind him.

“You gonna fuck me or what?”

“Like a freight train.” David’s hand stopped moving for just an instant, just enough time to position himself and slowly, slowly push his cock into Chris. He kept his fingers moving, letting Chris ease against him, let his body adjust until David was deep inside and Chris was moaning, low pitched words and growls, sweat coating his back and slicking David’s chest. 

“God, Dave. Just fuck me already. Do it . . . shit. Feels so good.” He felt David draw out, then push back in, filling him again, a little faster this time, a little harder and David’s hand moving in time with his thrusts bringing Chris up to the edge faster than he thought possible. Chris’ thighs trembled as he stood, his legs braced, his grip tight on the handrail, head down, hair hanging in his face, sweat dripping from his chin and his cheeks. He bit his bottom lip hard between his teeth. The elevator swayed on its chains, bounced with them as they moved together in the small, hot space. The air becoming charged with the scent of them, the perspiration and sex and the humid heat of their gasping, groaning, wordless exhalations. 

David felt Chris’ muscles tighten, felt him rise up on the balls of his feet as the orgasm hit him and pulled Chris hard against him. Then David let his own tear through his body as he filled Chris and covered the head of Chris’ dick at the same time. He tried to keep the burn of the fluid in his fingers and palm as he pumped Chris and released in him, shuddering. Once again, grateful that Chris was strong enough to support his weight as David leaned onto his back, helpless on this ride.

They both heard a phone ringing as they came down from their personal nirvana. David laughed and motioned to the emergency phone that was hidden behind a small door beside the numbered floor buttons.

“Well, I was only about fifteen minutes off.”

“You gonna answer that?” Chris asked as he pulled up his pants, arms shaking from strained muscles.

“Fuck no.” David hit the ‘stop’ button again and the elevator lurched back into motion. The doors opening as they reached their floor.

Chris glanced at his watch as they walked to the room. Only three hours left until he had to catch his plane back to New York. He grinned, looking down at the remains of the torn T-shirt that he held in his hand. 

Just enough time to make that man pay for ruining one of his favorite shirts.


End file.
